


Regulation Style

by Singerdiva01



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Fluff, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-06
Updated: 2015-05-06
Packaged: 2018-03-29 08:51:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3890110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Singerdiva01/pseuds/Singerdiva01
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Billy's unruly mop of curls comes under presidential scrutiny. Laura Roslin is, above all else, a woman of action. (Comment!fic fluff written for the 2014 Epics prompting challenge.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Regulation Style

Billy hunched over in his chair, scribbling notes, as the president stood above him reading the afternoon’s schedule aloud.

“Oh, and I want you to go with me to the senior staff meeting again this week,” she said absently, pausing to make a note on her own paper.

He winced. Last time he’d been stuck making small talk with Colonel Tigh for fifteen minutes after the meeting while the president chatted up the Commander. A Tauron rhino had better social skills than that man but he might not have felt so tortured about the whole thing if he hadn’t been half convinced he was playing wingman for his boss.

She must have noticed his body tense because she reached down to tousle his hair.

“Don’t worry, Billy, I won’t abandon you with Mr. Congeniality this time.”

He glanced up at her gratefully and noted the look of consternation on her face.

“What?”

She smiled and ran her fingers through his hair again. He looked at her warily as she moved to circle him and not so gently pull on the hair at the back of his neck.

“Billy, you need a haircut,” she declared.

He frowned. Of all the things he’d thought about since the end of the world, controlling his always unruly mop of curls hadn’t been on the list.

“Sure, Madame President, I’ll just ask my slave driver of a boss for half an hour to run down to the corner barber shop,” he retorted.

That earned him a light slap on the back of his head and a musical laugh.

“Insubordination,” she said in a mock serious tone. “Just for that, I’ll do it myself tonight.”

He gulped and started to assure her it wouldn’t be necessary for her to take time out of her busy schedule to come at his head with a sharp object. She cut him off with a wave of her hand, her presidential mask slipping back into place.

“But right now we’ve got to get to the shuttle or we’ll be late,” she said, turning back to the desk to gather her files. 

******************  
True to her word, the president did not stick him with the irascible XO when the meeting concluded. Instead she summarily dismissed everyone to hole herself up in the Commander’s quarters for what remained of the afternoon.

Unusually stuck with nothing to do while he tried not to think about what his boss might be doing with Adama, he searched the ship until he found Dee in the mess hall. She frowned slightly when he came in but pulled up a chair and invited him to join her group of marines and officers catching an early dinner.

After a few moments of small talk he turned to her and asked if she thought he needed a haircut.

“Definitely,” she said without even pausing to think about it. She wrinkled her nose. “It makes you look even more like a twelve year old boy.”

He sighed and was about to protest when he noticed her gaze shifted to someone who’d just entered the room.

“Apollo,” she exclaimed as she jumped up from her chair and made a waving motion. “Over here.”

He beamed that obnoxiously perfect smile and headed in their direction. As soon as he was close enough she ran her fingers through the pilots blonde locks in a decidedly different way than the president had done to him earlier.

“Now this is perfect regulation style,” she said playfully. Billy didn’t miss the fact that she let her fingers rest on Captain Apollo’s neck a moment longer than propriety allowed.

“Dee and the president think I need a haircut,” he explained awkwardly, craning his neck to look directly at the pilot. Lee simply shrugged and gave him the same dismissive look he always did when the president wasn’t around.

He stuck around for a few minutes listening to Dee tell Apollo all about the night’s card game before he decided hanging around with the president’s security detail outside the elder Adama’s quarters was more appealing than watching the son flirt with his girlfriend. He said his goodbyes and was hurt but hardly shocked when Dee just looked up and nodded before returning to her conversation.

He didn’t have to wait long before the president emerged from the hatch smiling, her hand on the Commander’s arm as they shared a final laugh. The sight of her looking so relaxed and healthy lifted his spirits immediately and he found it wasn’t even hard to keep up with her light banter on the shuttle ride back to Colonial One.

******************

Once they arrived he headed to his desk and the president disappeared behind her curtain. He smiled at the sound of her humming as he dove into the pile of reports that had piled up in his absence.

Fifteen minutes later he heard the curtain swish open and looked up to see President Roslin staring at him with her hand on her hip, a mischievous smile on her face.

“Now don’t think I forgot about you, young man,” she said. She crooked her finger and motioned toward her lair. “Get in here.”

He was more than a little impressed the president had managed to wrestle one of the chairs from her room into the tiny bathroom in front of the mirror. He made to sit down but she stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Shirt off. We don’t want to get hair all over you, do we?”

He saw his own shocked expression in the mirror and she caught it too. Her giggles filled the small space.

“Don’t worry, Billy, I think I can restrain myself from jumping you even if I see you in your undershirt,” she promised playfully.

He cursed his reddening cheeks as he slowly unbuttoned the shirt and slipped it off his shoulders. He looked around for a place to deposit it and the president took it from him to place on the hook on the door. She took the towel that had been there and motioned for him to sit so she could place it around his shoulders.

Once it was draped to her satisfaction she started circling him as well as she could in the confines, a serious expression on her face. He eyed her warily.

“Um, Madame President, have you ever done this before?”

She paused to glare over her glasses.

“Do you not trust me, Billy?” She jerked a few of his curls upward and pursed her lips. “I’ll have you know I used to cut my sister’s hair all the time.”

Something about the way she said it made his stomach drop.

“With their permission, ma’am?”

She laughed again and reached for a pair of scissors he’d failed to notice sitting on the sink.

“Let’s just say Sandra made the bob fashionable years before the models did,” she admitted.

She launched into a story about a game of pretend gone wrong as she started chopping at his curls. He let himself be soothed by her melodious voice while surreptitiously keeping a close eye on her progress in the mirror.

Finally the president made a satisfied sound and sat the scissors down on the sink with a clank.

“There,” she said proudly. “What do ya think?”

He stared at his reflection in the mirror and tried not to frown. It looked much better than it had now that it wasn’t skirting his eyebrows but nowhere near “regulation style,” as Dee had put it.

The president must have noticed his consternation because she laid a hand on his shoulder, her face soft and questioning in the mirror.

“What is it, Billy?”

He smiled bravely and looked up at her.

“Nothing, ma’am. It’s great. Not even the best barber in the world could make it look like, I don’t know, like the pilots wear theirs.”

It was Roslin’s turn to frown.

“Oh my gods, why would you ever want that?” She ran her hands through the now shorters locks, massaging his head as she did. “Your curls are wonderful. Don’t ever let anyone tell you otherwise or they’ll have me to deal with.”

He chuckled at the image of the president taking Dee to task and suddenly felt better than he had all day. Without thinking he jumped up and put his arm around the president, sending the towel and all its contents onto the floor.

“Thanks, ma’am,” he said and he beamed at his reflection in the mirror when she hugged him back.

When she pulled back she looked down at the mess on the floor and laughed good naturedly.

“I’ll clean this up. I heard there’s a big card game on Galactica tonight if you want to shuttle over there,” she offered.

He winced and shook his head.

“Nah, I think I feel like hanging out at home tonight.”

The president made a humming noise and turned to the mirror to absently straighten her own long locks.

“Sounds good to me. What you gonna do with your night off?”

He spotted the scissors on the sink and a wicked thought crept into his head. He grasped a long section of red hair and held it up in the mirror.

A look of horror crept across her features and she shook her head. He made for the scissors and chopped them a couple of times in the air near her head for dramatic effect.

“Do you not trust me, Madame President?”


End file.
